A/N: And uh, sorry for the delay- Matt refused to cooperate with me..

It's not a new life,
It's the same old one.
Just different.
- New Life, O+S

Eleven Months Ago, New York

Chapter Eight

As soon as he redirects his gaze, Matt knows he can sense his stare. On the floor, in the center of this too clean room is the familiar boy he knows. Leg tucked closer to his abdomen like it's his own idea of security, and while a pale hand busily stacks cards, the other disappears into his own head of sugar-white, curly hair, twirling never-ending circles.

Monotonous, his voice, and so quiet it's just above a whisper. "Matt knows where they are. Please tell me."

Polite as they are, they both know Near's words are a demand. Matt raises his right hand and proceeds to bite on his thumbnail to hide his smirk. "You'd have to be a little more specific, Near." No, Matt knows exactly who Near's looking for, but hell if he'll just blurt out the truth like that. As much as Near is his friend too, Matt will only disclose information if the teller allows it. As if Mello's allowed it.

Near inclines his head slowly, pausing his girly hair twirling for a short two seconds. The albino, Matt realizes, is trying to psyche him out with a stare like he does with every other Wammy occupant. Trying to pry the secrets out of him, detect the lies and gauge Matt's reaction, but his lies are as convincing as any truth he tells. Near speaks again. "There are parts of Hex's files that are missing. I would ask Mello if he has them in his possession, but he can no longer be traced.. And neither can Hex. Has Matt anything to do with this?"

"What do you think?" he asks innocently, quirking a brow upwards like the notion of it is plainly absurd. "If I didn't, then should I have? If I did, then what of it? The fact still remains that they've disappeared off your radar." Then, curiously now. "Did you intend to keep tabs on Mello? And why were you nosing through Hex's files, anyway?"

The sugar-haired boy gives him a deadpan stare. "I can do as I please without having my intentions questioned. Need I remind Matt that I am now L?"

Matt snorts quietly. "Was that supposed to impress me?" Cocking his head aside, he drawls out lazily. "As far as I'm concerned, you're still Near unless you get rid of that fake L. But even then, you'll still be Near to me."

Instead of replying to his words, Near asks, "Matt has no intention to stay here, does he?"

".. Nope."

The barely audible sound of dripping brings the attention to the bathroom. The door is left ajar, and the tiled floors are left carelessly wet, a pool of water coming from the tub and leading to the sink. Matt has both his palms pressed onto the sink as if to balance himself. He stares in vanity, taking in his image of pale, grayish skin and too hollow cheeks, still slightly flushed from his shower. His own green eyes bring back the memory of his happier days, so he skips this feature in favor to see his own handiwork.

His hair –left like a ragged mop he can't be bothered to tame- is still damp, but he sees that the dye is doing its job in changing his appearance, even if only just a little. No longer a violent Irish red mane, but rather a dull brown; inconspicuous, ordinary, and boring. As he exhales, his breath fogs up the mirror and he asks himself if he's still glad he's left Wammy's.

Nothing against the orphanage, but Matt hadn't the slightest intention to disregard completely how everything seemed to be crumbling down to his feet. It's only become more apparent to him now, how he's never really had a life in that so-called house. The other children stared at him like he was about to blow, and Matt used to think that he just might. He couldn't deal with Roger watching him like a hawk either, clearly thinking that he'll go after Mello, thinking he's so ready to bolt out of those gates without regards to where he'll go.

Roger isn't, by all means, wrong, but did he really think Matt capable of pulling such a stunt willingly when he's practically been living in a space of four walls and no windows for almost his whole life? Matt wants to laugh in that croon's face. Who is he kidding? All Matt knows is an existence in dark rooms and stuffy airs. Eyes only seeing pixels from computers, television and games alike, and always hearing the silence he values most.

Outside is where people die, and as much as he knows Mello and Near will readily lie their lives down for L, only for L, Matt is not ready to die. Outside is brutal and cruel; only about survival. Outside is where air is too fresh, and it's too bright when the sun beats down. Outside is where wind will come rushing in his face and he'll see too much life and death- animals, people, trees, it's horrifying. Outside? Outside is an absolute nightmare.

No, Matt hadn't been willing to leave Wammy's at all, but life there had become pure purgatory. He couldn't take it anymore, so he left, disregarding his phobia. He left without looking back. He left.

And up till now, he's nowhere to go, nothing to do but to just live on the sidelines, watching both Near and Mello like an invisible shadow, completely unseen. He left, not for them, but for him to have his own peace of mind. Don't get him wrong, he's got little to no interest at all in defeating Kira, but L is a part of him too. He's third, not chopped liver and hell if Matt's just going to let them overlook him like he's nothing at all.

Kid.
I've been trying to get contact with you. We need to talk.
Meet 2.5 miles away, thirty degrees southwest from your hotel in three days.
Preferably 13 00 hours. Do not be late.

Three days ago, he sends the message without much thought. Now thoughts race in his mind; what ifs and nonsensical scenarios playing. He knows all he wants to say to her, but what he doesn't know, is if he'll voice anything out. He's uneasy, even if there's nothing to be worried about. Matt knows Hex from when they were children, before Mello, before she was sent away. They were kids- they're still kids, taking the world like they've been doing it their whole lives. Just filling in the shoes of the people who used to mean something to them.

Matt shakes his thoughts away, and his now brunette hairs fall before his eyes, stirring a little as the wind picks up. People are rushing to go indoors but still he hears too much chatter, too many cars honking and sirens blaring, all the noise is ringing in his ears as if on replay. In the distance, lightning strikes and Matt feels more than just a little lonely.

Two hours go by at a snail's pace, and the snow is melting through his cotton jacket and his skin is tinged blue. He's cold, and he's lonelier, and he knows by now that Hex isn't coming at all. His patience is gone away with the chilly breeze, and its storming. He's got no point in sticking around under a lamppost any longer.

So he slouches forward with his head down, eyes kept on the pavement as he weaves past the thinning crowds with an absurdly leisurely pace, but Matt wants more than anything to break into a sprint to the 'sanctuary' of his sad little one bedroom apartment. Tempting, because it isn't far, but he needs to endure. He needs to get over his agoraphobia, even if it kills him.

It feels like forever's ended before he's at the door, pulling out the key with a bare, shaky hand and Matt thinks he's likely to get hypothermia. His heater is busted, there's no hot water and he's got nothing but meds to pull him out of it, but whatever. He'll have to make with what he has, even if it sucks six ways to Sunday.

Routinely, he takes off his jacket as he kicks off his ratty sneakers, and it takes him a while to realize that the whole place is warmed up, and the kitchen light is left on. Tapping the heater, he sees that it's working fine- someone's fixed it. Someone's been here –and it's definitely not the landlord; he's a prick-, and might still be here. Disregarding his oncoming migraine, the wheels in his mind begins turning quick. His eyes sharpen, scanning every nook and cranny of the living room to see if anything is out of place.

Then he notices the clock hanging on the otherwise empty wall. His wristwatch tells him it's three fifteen now, but the clock reads one. It doesn't make sense, because he remembers the clock working just fine when he left this morning. He steps closer to scrutinize it further, and realizes that the hour and minute hand is frozen in place, precisely one o'clock, but the second hand whirls counter clockwise uncontrollably. One o'clock. 13 00 hours. The exact time he's arranged them to meet.

Saying this is a mere coincidence is a stretch, and it sounds wrong to his head either way. He makes the epiphany that she's here, and ignoring the fact that his legs are almost numb, he proceeds to search the entire place. The kitchen, but it's empty, save for Freddy wagging his tail contentedly, chewing leftover pizza –Matt's dinner- under the table. The bathroom sounds stupid, but he checks anyway, even tentatively pulling at the shower curtain to be thorough. Empty.

He finally finds her in his bedroom, hand halfway in a bagful of whatever and she's on his cheap single bed, leaning against the metal headboard like she hasn't a care in the world. She doesn't jump at his sudden entry, but she does blink at him curiously, an amused grin playing on her lips. She gives him a once over, gaze lingering on his hair, his drowned state, his face. Then she comments, "I liked you better as a redhead."

He knows she's been trained in observation just as he is, so Matt isn't even surprised she recognizes him. Either way, it's blasphemy to forget the face of the person who demanded they'd be friends. Even with the change of appearance, even after hardly seeing him for too long. Matt almost smiles at the memory.

Hex watches as he closes the door behind him, pulling out a particularly large cookie from the bag and she takes a bite. "I saw you leaving this building around eleven," she begins to explain her presence. "Wasn't really hard to find this place after that- I thought it'd be better if we met somewhere a little more private."

Matt doesn't ask about her fixing the heater. It sounds stupid to mention anyway. "You could've told me that before I left, you know," he remarks instead, picking up the Styrofoam cup of espresso that she gestures him to take. He takes a large sip, reveling in the feeling of heat going down his throat. "Instead, you let me freeze my ass off waiting out. I thought you were gonna be a no show."

"Technically, I didn't show." She inclines her head to meet him eye to eye, and long, errant locks of her white-blond hair spill down her neck slowly. She smirks as she adds, "But honestly, you'd think a guy would go indoors as soon as a storm hits. No, you wanted to defy logic and freeze your ass off." She giggles. "Some genius you turned out to be."

Used to Mello's verbal abuse, he isn't affected by her jibe in the least. Still, he says, "That wasn't funny, Hex."

She rolls her eyes. "Never said I was a comedian, Mattie-boy." Matt sits himself beside her on the bed, and it sinks down slightly with the added weight. Hex stretches her legs across his lap, using him as a footrest. "But aren't we getting a little off track? You wanted to talk, so let's talk already," stifles a yawn as she says this. "What's up?"

"L's dead."

"Yeah."

"Wammy's is falling apart."

"Yep."

"I left Wammy's."

"Obviously, since you're here," she gives him a look, as if she's trying to reason with a child. "Why don't you tell me something I don't know?"

Matt sighs, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes, and colors dance in his line of vision. "Okay. Near's trying to pinpoint your location." His eyelids fall shut heavily as he murmurs. "And about that.. Mello found you yet?"

There is a short silence. And then, she replies too pleasantly, but any halfwit will be able to tell that she's absolutely displeased, absolutely sardonic. "Oh yeah, He's a regular ray of sunshine, Mattie-boy- we're even braiding each other's hair now!" He doesn't expect her to kick him in his side with the heel of her boot. Matt grunts in discomfort, but she's on a roll. "Give me a little heads up next time. I don't babysit, you asshole."

"Mello doesn't need looking after," he says, feeling a little awkward talking about Mello like he's his daddy or something. It's a lie, of course, but Hex doesn't have to know that. "I would've told you, but I didn't think you've shed your habit of running away from things you want nothing to do with. I know you-"

The younger girl kicks him again. "Correction. You knew me. I'm like a total stranger to you now."

Matt smirks. "Somehow, I doubt you've changed much." Another lie he tells smoothly, flawlessly. He thinks she's changed in more ways than just her appearance. She's bolder, more confident, more violent even. He hasn't decided if he's liking this new Hex just yet. He's great at adapting with changes, but Matt's never really been the type to appreciate it.

"I've changed plenty," she sniffs grumpily. "And for the better too, Mattie. Accept it, live with it. Get over it."

"Yeah, yeah," he waves her off, peeking his eyes open slightly just to glare at her a little. "I get the idea." He bites back calling her touchy with exaggerated syllables. He thinks it a sore subject for Hex, for some reason, so he drops it, not out of consideration (to hell with that), but he really doesn't feel like having her bruise his side anymore.

So he changes the topic a full three sixty degrees. "Mello's really not that bad, Hex. Kind of a prick, but really.. He's got good intentions."

Hex's irritation with him dissipates for the moment. She looks dubious by his statement, quirking a delicate brow upwards and she says, "Either you're fucked up in the head, or he's told you nothing." She glances around the room briefly in paranoia –probably wondering if the entire place is secure- before she leans downwards, whispering in his ear so quietly he thinks he might have imagined her saying it. "He wants in the mafia."

"So he's told me," he says.

"You're fucked up in the head," she decides, scrutinizing him intently. "Definitely."

Matt ignores her, asking wryly. "When you guys get in, could you give me a job or something? And I'm not talking garbage duty. I need cash. Seriously."

She thumps him in the head this time, pulling away from him with a glower. "Stop talking. You're missing the point."

"I wasn't aware there'd be a point." If looks could kill, Matt thinks he'll be burnt beyond recognition already. He quits pushing her buttons and dons an easy smile. "I was joking. Well, not really, but yeah… I'll shut up now. Talk."

Hex keeps her silence to test him, pouting defiantly and Matt wonders why he lets her intimidate him like that. But apparently satisfied, she speaks again. "Tell me where the hell the good intentions in getting the mafia are. Sure, they've got power, authority and all that shit, but I don't see how some organized crime syndicate will help in 'defeating Kira'."

Matt shakes his head. "No, he's serious about that last bit- wants to avenge L, beat Near, be number one… Mello's plan doesn't really make sense to me either, but his methods are unorthodox. I'd just go with it if I were you."

"But you're not me," she reminds him, furrowing her brows as she questions. "Why's you sic him after me, anyway? Regardless that the mafia's more likely to be in the police records than I am, I'm still a freaking criminal, Matt. Not someone you'd want to associate with," she looks frustrated now, sighing as she confesses to him. "From all you've said, I'm getting that he's a little power hungry, Matt.. I've got this gut feeling he's going to use me as bait for Kira."

Matt chuckles at her, rolling his eyes because the idea is completely ridiculous. "Nah, he's just got an inferiority complex. And he's not that drastic, Hex. He's got a sense of morality- he won't resort to something that low." When she still looks less than convinced, Matt gives her a crooked smile. "I'm not just being optimistic. Seriously, I know Mello."

Hex looks visibly annoyed. "He's not some special case, Matt. He's just like every other person on this planet, no matter how well he hides it. Two-faced, selfish, greedy, always after something better. You don't know people like I do."

"Stop sounding so jaded," he tells her, running fingers through his hair. "Loosen up. Mello's a good guy, I swear. He cares."

Hex narrows her eyes at him and quickly looks away. "I still don't trust him."

TBC

A/N: Maybe I'm biased, but I thought this was horrible. T-T Ahem, so here's my portrayal of Matt- love him? Hate him? 'Cause uh, I guess he'll be making more appearances now, and Near too. So Matt's the mystery dude from chapter one.. Was anyone expecting anyone else? Mello didn't make an appearance here, but hey, he got mentioned a lot, huh?

Also.. from the last chapter; did no one catch who Jose was? He really was in the manga/anime, had this role with Mello, but I've said too much already. ;) Comments, ideas and constructive criticism are very much welcome. *coughs coughs*

A very special thanks to:
CocoBunni96 (Thank you! :D Hope this update did good.)
C. Holywell-Black (Thanks! I wasn't aware she had a conscience until last chapter :P; Hex can't be too cocky, you know. You'll be pleased to know I've got the next chapter totally written already- I'm giddy about it. ;D)
Kira the Wolf (I thought she needed some empathy, and I made her cry. :P I FAIL haha, but I'm glad you enjoyed the last update. Having Mello walk away was hard- methinks he has a soft spot for her. :3 And thanks!)
ChicalaMoya (Thanks! Haha, glad that Hex is connecting with someone :) And Wedy? She's one of my favourite characters in DN- had to do her some justice, y'know. Hope you liked how I portrayed Matt and Near! :D)
Overboard343 (Thanks! Haha, I'm glad you're really liking the turn of events. :) Even if Mello has no idea how to handle Hex.. or does he? *eyebrow waggle* haha, hope you enjoyed this update. :))

Preview:

Hex is well aware she's a liar. She's acting almost as if the tension is imaginary, like she never did break like she did. So easily. Hex watches as confusion and irritation dance behind his orbs now, but he plays along, just a bit. From the vanity, Mello's reflection seems to only come closer. Then he says, "You never did answer my question."

She barely stops herself from tensing as she feels him press against her back suddenly, not overbearingly, just so strangely tender it unnerves her. Hex keeps her gaze to the mirror, pulling at her hair viciously to remind herself to keep her façade intact. "I never had the intention to," she replies, but her words die slowly as she feels his heart beating erratically.

Mello's making it a point not to look at her.

Mister review is telling you to push his buttons. :D